Dearest Padre Pio,
I’ve come today, to lean against you for others. A son in jail, a son fighting to live. Their mothers bravely and valiantly loving others, carrying their crosses and others’, through every shade of sorrow. Their pain bites deep, my father. No healing balm, no comfort do I have for their wounds, but keep their weeps in you I will, St. Pio, for you dried mine years ago.